Perfect
by SabbyStarlight
Summary: Collection of Stydia drabbles. Romance, cuteness, and fluff! Chapter 3 just posted!
1. Chapter 1

They had gotten close, anyone could see it. Lydia had gone from not noticing him at all to feeling only completely herself when she was with Stiles. His presence made her feel safe and protected, things were just _right_ when she was with Stiles. Their whole pack had their ups and downs, but the one thing that never changed whether they were in the middle of an immense supernatural crisis or getting a chance to be normal teenagers for a moment, was how easy it was for Stiles and Lydia to be together.

Currently, they were in Stiles's bedroom. He was laying on the floor, legs propped up on the bed, with the econ textbook he was supposed to be reading, held over his head. Lydia was perched on the corner of his desk painting her nails, the window behind her opened wide so the fumes wouldn't fill the room. Somehow she was managing to balance the open bottle of polish on her knee without spilling it across the carpet.

Stiles stared, upside down, at her. "Do you ever get frustrated with it?" He asked.

"Painting my nails?" Lydia replied, never taking her eyes away from the second coat she was applying.

"No. Although that looks way too precise and time consuming to be worth the reward. The way society just kinda, I don't know, expects, you to do all that."

"You turning into a feminist on me, Stilinski?" She smiled.

"No. It just isn't fair. The hair and makeup and clothes and nails and shoes. It's crazy." He rolled over so that he was looking at her properly. "Like, it's perfectly fine for me to walk out the door into the world no matter what I look like as long as I take two seconds to put on pants. It doesn't matter what I look like, nobody cares. But you, women in general, have to worry about things like whether or not your nails match your purse. And you get criticized if they don't! How is that fair?"

Lydia finally looked at him, shaking her hand to dry the now blood red nails. "It's not. But that's just the way life is." She shrugged. "And you match the nails to the clothes. Bag to the shoes." She grinned at the incredulous look on the young man's face. "Ya wanna know a secret though? Most of the time, we don't really mind." She said, examining a small smudge on her left pinky.

"When I was little I would beg my mom every day to let me play dress up in her clothes." She continued, "I would trip around the house in heels that were twice the size of my feet with lipstick smeared all over my face because she let me do it myself. One time she got out her old prom dress out of the attic and let me try it on, electric blue with huge shoulder pads. It was hideous but I thought it was the greatest day of my life. And now I get the chance to do that every day. It's kinda fun."

"You don't need it though," He insisted. Her green eyes met his brown and she saw the seriousness behind them. "You really mean that don't you?" She asked.

"Of course I do!" He stood up and flopped backwards onto the bed, speaking to the ceiling. "God, Lydia. You don't see it. You're… you're perfect. And you don't NEED to do all that crap." He took a breath. "You're perfect without any of it. And you, just being you, is so amazing. If somebody is too blind to see that then they don't deserve to be a part of your life."

Afraid he had gone to far, he hesitantly glanced up and across the room, finding Lydia putting the nail polish bottle back into her bag and hopping off the desk. _Great._ Stiles thought. _I upset her._ As she walked closer to him though, he saw that she was smiling, gleam of tears shimmering in her eyes.

She leaned across the bed and pressed a kiss to his cheek. "You're pretty perfect yourself, Stiles." She told him as she walked out of the room, closing the door behind her. He lay on his bed for a while once she was gone, fingers pressed against the waxy lipstick print left behind, goofy grin on his face.

Finally he got up, forcing himself to sit down at his computer and try again to work on the econ assignment he had due at the end of the week. He didn't get very far on the paper though, out of the corner of his eye a flash of red caught his attention. There, scrawled on the top of his stack of sticky notes in loopy cursive, _Thank you._ With a blood red nail polish heart in the corner.

Stiles carefully pulled the paper off the stack with a smile and ran a finger across the two words. He resisted the urge to poke at the heart, afraid it was still wet and he didn't want to smear it. Instead, he gently pressed the tacky strip on the back to the wall above his desk, poking a tack into each top corner just to be safe.

He knew that to most people that little piece of paper wouldn't mean much. Most would have just smiled at the note and tossed it aside to be gathered up and thrown out later, never thought of again. Others would have treasured it, kept it in a place safe from prying eyes and dangers that could accidentally damage the fragile paper. Not Stiles though. He wanted that note to be right where he could see it every day; A constant reminder that no matter how bad things got or what went wrong in his life, on that day, he had done something right.

 **This has the potential to become the home for all future Stydia drabbles.**

 **Thank's for reading, hope you enjoyed!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Fluffy drabble. Cause I'm feelin all the Stydia feels.**

Stiles walked out of his biology class and turned down the hall, headed towards his next class when he saw Lydia standing in front of her open locker. Stiles smiled as he watched the strawberry blonde taking book after book out of the shelf.

"You know Lyd," Stiles teased as he walked over and leaned his tall frame against the locker next to her's. "You're allowed to go to your locker in between classes. You don't have to carry around your books for the whole day."

Lydia rolled her eyes as she added a notebook to the ever-growing pile in her arms. "I'm not in the mood for this today, Stiles. See this?" She thrust a stapled-together packet of papers at his chest. Her Calculus test from last week, with an 88% written on the front in red ink.

"So? It's a B. One B isn't gonna ruin your future. It's not even gonna put a dent in your grade point average." He told her.

"It's not JUST a B. It's a low B. And I wouldn't be so upset if I deserved it, but do you know WHY I got that grade? Because I forgot to do an entire page. I just skipped right over it, didn't even notice, and left them all blank. I can do every problem that was marked wrong in my head right now, but it doesn't matter. I had a perfect grade in that class and now that's gone. And the teacher won't allow make-ups unless the test score drops your average a letter grade." She ranted without ever taking her eyes away from arranging the rows of books in her locker.

"So yes, this is a lot of books." She motioned toward the ever-growing stack in her arm, "But I can't afford to mess up in another class right now. And I'm on my way to Honors Chem and we're starting a new chapter that I haven't even had the time to read all the way through. And then I have two free periods before a huge test in AP Lit at the end of the day that's worth a fourth of our final grade. Which means that as soon as this period is over I'm heading straight to the library to study. No breaks, no distractions. So I don't have time to come all the way back to my locker. I just don't have time." She explained in one breath, her panicked eyes meeting his and beginning to shine with tears.

"Woah! Calm down." Stiles told her, gently grabbing her shoulder and forcing her to turn away from her locker and look at him. "We have ten minutes before the bell, just breathe. You have plenty of time."

Stiles dropped his backpack to the floor at his feet and gently took the pile of books out of Lydia's arms, setting them back on the shelf in her locker. Stiles's whiskey eyes took in the state of the young woman. Seeing for the first time, not the perfect woman of his dreams, but a scared, exhausted young girl. The shadowed bags beneath her eyes that her makeup couldn't quite conceal, the way the collar of her shirt wasn't perfectly ironed, and how her messy braid didn't look quite so intentional. The dry erase calendar hanging on her locker door overflowing with homework assignments and upcoming tests.

"C'mere." Stiles ordered, reaching his arms around her petite frame, pulling her to his chest. Had it been anyone else Lydia would have refused, thrown up a wall and acted as if everything was fine. But this was Stiles, he had seen her at her absolute worst and loved her anyway. So she closed her eyes and buried her face in his hoodie, letting his warm, familiar scent envelop her.

"Everything's gonna be fine." He told her, his chin resting on her head. "You can't keep expecting this much out of yourself. It's alright to mess up, to bomb a test, to sleep in, or forget to read a chapter. Those things don't matter. You take on so much more than any other high school student would even consider. And then you were thrown head first into the supernatural craziness of this town. You have to give yourself a break."

Lydia sniffled, listening to his comforting words rumble through his chest. "I just don't want to let anybody down." She whispered.

Stiles smiled and pressed a quick kiss to her forehead as he let her go, holding her at arm's length so she could see his eyes. "You're perfect to anyone that matters, remember?"

Lydia smiled back and nodded, turning to her locker mirror to check her makeup.

"Come on," Stiles said as he slung his backpack on his shoulders and reach around Lydia to pick up the pile of books in her locker. "Let's get you to class. AP Lit, right?"

"You're going to carry my books as you walk me to class?" Lydia asked with a smirk.

"Yup." He answered with a grin. Lydia rolled her eyes but followed Stiles down the hallway anyway.


	3. Chapter 3

"Why did we get stuck on lookout?" Stiles asked with a groan, hitting his head against the back of his Jeep seat in frustration.

"Probably because we are the only two in our group of friends without super-fast healing abilities?" Lydia answered. "And when we are all running around in the middle of the night trying to save the town from, yet again, another supernatural crisis, it's easier for the ones who can actually help solve the problem not to be worrying about us getting hurt."

"I can help." Stiles crossed his arms and stared out the windshield, pouting.

"We are helping. We are making sure that the wendigo doesn't circle back around this way. And if someone DOES get hurt we are here with a way to get them safely to Deaton's. We're helping."

"Yeah. Helping." Stiles sighed. "This is so boring."

"You told me once that you couldn't handle it if something happened to me."

"Yeah." Stiles replied automatically. "Still stands, by the way."

"Okay. You don't want me getting hurt. Did it ever cross your mind that I don't want YOU hurt either?" She asked.

Stiles huffed a quiet laugh. "No. No not really."

"Well I don't." Lydia smiled. "And nobody else does either. So yeah, keeping us here may be a way of them keeping us out of the way, but they are doing it to keep us safe. Not because they don't think we can help."

Stiles slammed his hands against the steering wheel in front of him. "I know that, I do. This is just so freaking boring!"

"Do you remember," Lydia began, trying to distract Stiles, "When Kate took Scott and Kira to Mexico and I was trapped in the school with Mason and the berserker?"

"Yeah. I sent Dad to go look for you and he blew the thing up with a grenade." Stiles replied.

"Well before he showed up," Lydia continued, "I was determined to get out of there. So Mason and I had a plan to go after the berserker. With baseball bats."

Stiles laughed. "Seriously Lydia? You were gonna go after a berserker, with a BAT? Do you know how dangerous that was?" He meant what he was saying but the seriousness of his words were lessened by his laughter.

"Yeah well I figured it had worked for you in worse situations. And I didn't exactly have any better options." She smiled back.

"And all these years I thought you were the one with the responsible, well-thought out plans." He teased.

"I guess I have just spent too much time around you." She joked, realizing a moment too late to stop, that she was flirting.

Stiles was silent for a moment before reaching up and rubbing the back of his neck as he asked, "I guess it's my turn now?"

"Turn for what?" She asked.

"You just shared a secret about me. I'm pretty sure playground rules state that now I have to tell you one of my secrets about you." Stiles said.

"It wasn't exactly a secret…" Lydia answered. "Just a story."

"That involved me. That I didn't know. That qualifies it as a secret." He informed her.

"Do you remember," Stiles began after a pause. "Right after the ritual with me, Scott, and Allison? That morning when we realized that something was wrong, that we had opened a door?" Lydia nodded.

"Well that morning, when I had all the nightmares? You were in one." He confided.

"Like, as a banshee?" Lydia prompted, curious.

"No. As you. You know how you sometimes have a dream within a dream?" Stiles asked.

"A false awakening." She answered.

"Right. Well this was a nightmare within a nightmare within a nightmare within a nightmare. But in one of them. The second one, I think, I dreamed I woke up from a nightmare and everything was fine, I was in my bed, everything was normal. But you were there. Sleeping right next to me, one of my old tee-shirts falling off your shoulders. You woke up and asked if I was alright and told me to come back to bed, and I realized, after a little while, that it was weird that you were in my bed, that was what clued me in that it was another dream. But for a second there, everything was perfect. Everything felt like it was exactly the way it was supposed to be. Because of you."

Stiles took a breath and stared out the windshield, afraid to look over at Lydia. Worrying that he had crossed a line, that he had taken their newfound comfortable friendship and messed it up. Not wanting this secret to pull her further away. So he was shocked to say the least, when he heard a quiet "Thank you." come from the passenger seat of his Jeep.

"For what?" He asked.

"For being the only guy in the world adorable enough to think so highly of me that he has a dream about me, literally, just sleeping." Lydia answered with a smile.

Stiles breathed a sigh of relief. "Yeah well thanks for giving me a moment of peace in the middle of my crazy twisted dreamworld." Stiles replied.

"Anytime." She told him, turning her head to scan for trouble out her window, the pane of glass reflecting the flash of her smile back towards him.

And while Stiles wasn't exactly looking forward to his next nightmare, the bad still outweighed the good in those situations, he definitely wasn't going to complain the next time he and Lydia got stuck on lookout duty again.


End file.
